


Restart

by lostinmyself



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Action/Adventure, Actually more like time rewinding, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, By Michael - who else, Dr Strange is only in the prologue and no more than a plot device, Fix-It, Gen, Happy Ending, Ignoring Season 5 - it doesn't really come into play actually, Lots and lots of plotting, Plan on rewriting the entire show, Will NOT rehash canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:34:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25882174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinmyself/pseuds/lostinmyself
Summary: Because NO WAY should Michael Scofield have died, and NO WAY should he have so much blood on his hands. Right before he can die to save Sara and their baby, someone approaches him, giving him an option to make things right.Back to one month before his bank robbery, but with the knowledge of what might happen, Michael decides to alter his plans drastically.
Relationships: Michael Scofield/Sara Tancredi
Comments: 14
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

Blue electricity crackled through the air between the two cables as he brought them closer together, his hands shaking only ever so slightly. The second before connecting, he looked up one last time at the stretch of wall separating him from his wife and their unborn child. He couldn't see Sara, and that made his throat constrict. Selfishly, he had wanted her to be the last image that he saw.

Wait.

Who was that?

His hands froze. And then his surroundings changed to complete darkness, and there was nothing in his hands or beneath his feet, for that matter.

Michael staggered, but did not fall. He suspected he couldn't. "Who are you? What's going on?"

"Michael Scofield." The voice was deep. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"What is this place?" He was panicking now. "Take me back!"

"Take you back, to where you are a second away from death?"

"Sara will die!"

"Not now, she won't. Mr. Scofield, when we are now... this has no concept of time, because it's not a factor here."

Michael let out an incredulous laugh. "You stopped time?"

"Close enough."

He rubbed his forehead. Nothing was making any sense, so he decided to just go with it for now. "Why?"

"Because of you."

"Sorry?"

"I have followed your story quite closely over the past months, Mr. Scofield. And I would like to offer you a second chance."

"At what?"

"Fixing past mistakes."

Michael stared, and then started to laugh.

The voice also sounded somewhat amused. "I realize how ridiculous it sounds, believe me. If you'd like, I can give you a demonstration."

"Please," said Michael. "Uh, what do I call you?"

"Dr. Strange would suffice."

Michael snorted. _Of course._ "Right."

And then he was on the beach with Sara, walking hand-in-hand and saying something about getting some baby books. In less than a second later, he was back in the dark place, and it was just as well, because he could not have concealed his shock from her.

He sank to his knees, burying his face in his hands. "My brain's playing tricks on me," he concluded. "I got zapped, I'm probably in a coma, and my brain decided to show me all this stuff to help me get better."

Dr. Strange didn't answer for a moment, then he said, "Would you like to see the future?"

"What?"

The scene changed, and he was watching as a four-years-old, looking eerily similar to his own photos from the family album, yet not completely identical - strolled through a marketplace... Panama... with Sara. She had a strange snake-like burn on her shoulder, and as he stared, Sara told the child, "Michael, want to skip a few more times?"

"Okay," said the child, and Michael's heart twisted ferociously in his chest and he had to close his eyes to brace against the sudden onslaught of tears. That voice... the one he never thought he'd hear... it filled him with a rush of emotion of an intensity he hadn't believed himself capable of feeling.

"She named him after me," he whispered.

"Yes. Understand, Michael, that this is only a possible future."

"Yeah." Michael took a few deep breaths to compose himself, watching the slow progression of the child and his mother in the crowd through blurry vision. "This second chance... you're sending me back in time?"

"I'm rewinding the timeline," Dr. Strange said calmly. "My powers are limited, Mr. Scofield. I cannot take only you... I must reverse the time itself, to a degree."

"So how far back can I go?"

"How far back do you want to go?"

"Four years," Michael said immediately. "I want to pay off Lincoln's debt before everything comes to this."

"Ah. I cannot agree to that."

"Why not?"

"Almost one year earlier, something was prevented from happening in this world that could have had catastrophic consequences. I understand that you would usually have nothing to do with it, but even one in a thousandth is too much of a risk in this. The most I can give you... is nine months."

Less than a year. Lincoln would still be on death row. He would have already started working on his tattoos. After one month, he would be making his way into that bank.

"What if I can't save Lincoln?" he whispered.

"There is that risk, yes. A minimal risk, but still present."

"Minimal," Michael echoed.

"Yes, judging by the possible outcomes. You can be quite efficient when you set your mind to something."

"What's the probability?"

"92.6%."

These were... good odds. Very good, in fact. "And how many of these do I die in?"

"84.9%."

Michael snorted. "So, I die either way."

"Possibly. But is that your primary concern?"

Images flashed through his head, too fast to linger on, but he could easily recount each of them. Leticia. Bob. Lisa and Adrian Rix. Sebastian. Hale. Nick. Charles. Veronica... oh, God. Veronica. Abruzzi. David. Sara's father. His own father, Aldo. Haywire. All the victims T-Bag claimed...

"No," he whispered.

"Then, what is your decision?"

He looked up. "First, I'd like to see your face."

A moment's pause, and then a tall, pale, cloaked man stepped out of the darkness, blue green eyes sharp as they assessed him. Michael met his gaze unflinchingly.

"Take me back."


	2. Chapter 2

Consciousness came to him slowly. The comfortable mattress, the soft, clean sheets wrapped around him felt so familiar and yet foreign, like something in the distant past.

He exhaled softly. He remembered everything, just as he was told he would.

The sun was not up yet, the soft glow from the horizon bathing everything in a bluish light. This was one of Michael's favorite times of the day. Most of his peers loved to sleep in on weekends, but Michael only indulged himself on Saturday. There was something riveting about watching the sunrise... being able to watch the sunrise... that always filled him with a feeling of freedom.

Glancing at the calendar to confirm that yes, it was Sunday, Michael sat up in his bed and pushed off the covers. He padded into the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee, fully intent on watching the sunrise from his balcony, but also... getting some work done.

First on his to-do list, though, had nothing to do with his plan.

"Michael... do you have _any_ idea what time it is?"

He closed his eyes, the morning breeze blowing on his face and drifting the steam from his mug, and let a warm smile spread across his lips. "Morning, V."

"Oh, for goodness's sake..." there were a few more bouts of grumbling, then Veronica said, "Sebastian's here, you know that, right?"

"Tell him I said hi," Michael said cheerfully.

"You're in a ridiculously good mood," she observed. "What's going on?"

"You know, found a wife, had a kid, the usual," Michael deadpanned.

"What?"

"Joking, V."

"That was weird, even for you."

"Yeah." Michael smiled. "You know, it's funny... you know me better than any other woman in my life."

"Considering you're single, that doesn't mean much."

 _I'm married_ , Michael thought, irrationally. "Meet up today?"

"Yeah, sure." Veronica hesitated, suddenly, and when she spoke next, her voice was incredibly gentle. "Michael, is everything alright?"

 _Nope, I kind of got you killed. I kinda - almost - died only few months later though, if it's any consolation?_ Michael laughed, and then suddenly found he couldn't stop. He abruptly hung up the phone, buried his face in his hands, and just about controlled himself before he could actually start crying like one of those meltdowns in movies.

His phone was ringing insistently, and he took a long, steadying breath before answering. "Hey, Veronica. Sorry, probably network malfunction."

"Michael, you're scaring me," she said simply, and she did sound like it, and Michael felt horrible enough to snap him out of his haze.

"Sorry," he repeated. "I'm fine. I promise."

"Okay." Her voice was soft. "I'll meet you at the Pier?"

That was... very okay, actually. Better than the park - the distance would give him a chance to stretch his legs. "All right. Lunch or dinner? Pick any restaurant you like. It’ll be my treat."

"My goodness, Michael, what's gotten into you?"

He laughed. "Well, if you're not up for it..."

"Hold on." She appeared to be considering. "Riva. Lunch."

"Fine with me. See you at two?"

"Sure. Take care, Michael."

"You too."

* * *

At quarter past one, Michael was sitting at his desk with printed files scattered everywhere, all of them about the person he knew the least of all the escapees: Benjamin Miles 'C-Note' Franklin.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that the man hadn't deserved the sentence that had been handed to him. Even if he hadn't heard about it from Sucre after their exoneration, he would have known just by reading the files.

Benjamin had been sent to Fox River only a few days before, and Michael took a second to admire the fact that he had built up all those connections within a couple of months.

He leaned back in his chair, eyes still on the lines of text on his computer screen. C-Note's home address.

Oh, God, how he wished he would never have to play this card. This was the very last resort, but if this was what it took...

Blackmail had never worked out well for _him_ , either. He absently curled his toes against the floor, marveling a little at how that simple touch could feel so comforting.

He switched tabs on the browser and pulled up the other website he had been looking at. There was a text window open there, the cursor blinking at him from the end of the box. His index finger hovered over the mouse for a moment, before clicking 'post'.

Standing, he walked over to the clippings taking up the entire wall on the far side and started to peel them off, one by one, placing them methodically into the many plastic folders he had left on the desk.

Shortly before half past one, he was out the door.

* * *

He was five minutes early, but Veronica was already there, waving at him from a table by the window. He wanted to pull her into his arms, but settled for a wide smile as he took the seat across from hers. Right now, he didn't trust his emotions.

"Hey," she said by way of greeting. "So, you know your blackmail pay isn't due until next week, right?"

Michael raised his eyebrows, playing along. "Consider it an advance."

She furrowed her brows. "Seriously, what's going on, Michael?"

He opened his mouth, the lie already ready on his tongue, before sighing and saying, "I had a strange dream."

She looked disbelieving. "That's the excuse you're going with?"

"Well, uh, it was very... Vivid. I can still remember everything like it was yesterday."

Her eyes softened. "Did something happen to me in your dream?"

Straight to the point. Michael blinked, and then said, "Yes. I realize what a baby that makes me sound like, but..."

"It doesn't," said Veronica, reaching across the table to cover his gloved hands with hers. "Michael, after everything you've been through, and now, with Lincoln..."

"Yeah," he sighed. "Can we… talk about something else now?”

“Like what?”

“Your wedding preparation, maybe? How’s that coming along?"

She shrugged. "Oh, you know."

"Actually, I don't. It's been months, and I still don't know the date." He let his lips curl into a half-smirk. "You're not cutting me off, are you?"

"As much as Sebastian would love that... No."

"Damn." Michael tapped his fingers on the table. "Maybe I should try to get on his good graces, somehow."

"He doesn't mind you, just who you remind him of." A shadow fell across her face. "How's Lincoln?"

"I, uh, I don't know. Haven't seen him in two weeks." Was that right? He believed so. He'd lessened the communications with Lincoln before his robbery, having spent nearly every free minute either at the tattoo parlor or at home, planning out every detail, going over them again and again.

He took in the haunted look in his friend's eyes, and suddenly felt oddly guilty. At least he had the benefit of knowing that Lincoln was innocent. Veronica not only had to deal with the fact that the love of her life would die, but also that he was a murderer.

And a wedding, on top of that...

"How are you holding up?" he asked softly.

She looked startled. "Me? I'm fine. Why won't I be?"

"Veronica, we've known each other basically our entire lives. You can talk to me."

To his consternation, her eyes started to glisten. "Can I, though? You've never listened before."

He wanted to contradict her, but he knew she was right. Some part of him had always understood why she had broken up with his brother, and the fact that she also had to be hurting for that. But out of respect for Lincoln, he had never actively tried to support her through it or even given any indication that he understood. Now, though...

Two months after Veronica had died to save his brother, the latter had gotten a new girlfriend – Lincoln would definitely survive if Veronica married someone else.

Michael was _not_ going to prioritize his brother's wants above Veronica's life.

"I think I've shed the rose-tinted glasses," he told her.

She raised an eyebrow. "What changed?"

"Perspective."

"Hm."

"Excuse me, are you ready to order?"

Veronica looked chagrined and relieved at the same time. They both pointed out their respective choices from the menu, and after the waitress had left, she took a deep breath and turned to face him.

"I'm... conflicted."

Michael nodded. This, he knew.

"Not about Sebastian, exactly. He's a good man, and he loves me. I just... Lincoln's going to... he's going to die soon, and... this just doesn't feel right. Not right now."

"And I'm guessing Sebastian wouldn't be exactly happy to hear that," Michael said wryly.

"Yeah. He acts like he wants me to be honest with him... but I know how he feels about this."

"Have you set a date?"

"Yeah, actually." Veronica gave him an apprehensive look. "It's May 3rd."

Michael exhaled. "Can you... uh, delay it?"

She winced and looked away.

"I'm not asking for Lincoln," he added quickly. "I might be going out on a limb here, Veronica, but Lincoln's not just an ex, he's your childhood friend. Seems reasonable to expect your fiancé to understand the fact that it'd be hard for you to enjoy your honeymoon when a friend's about to be executed."

"Yeah, that's the thing." Veronica folded her hands on the table. "Sebastian's insecure."

"Never would've guessed," Michael deadpanned, but she didn't seem to find it funny.

"To keep him happy, I had to tell him I had no feelings for Lincoln anymore. I insisted on it, so many times. And now if I do this..."

Michael nodded, looking down at the table. "Guess that date effectively cuts me out of the guest list," he said half-heartedly.

"I'm sorry, Michael. The day was finalized before they set the execution date..."

"You don't have to explain."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't." Maybe he would have demanded it, in another time. But now that he knew the lengths to which she would go for his brother... he reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "I know this is hard for you, and whatever you choose is fine with me."

She didn't quite smile, but the desperation in her eyes slowly faded. “How did you turn out to be the mature one of us?"

"Between you and Linc, it wasn’t really hard.” That earned him a playful glower. “Also, husband and father, remember?"

She rolled her eyes, but she was grinning. "Again with that. Was that part of your dream, by any chance?"

"It might have been," Michael said evasively. "How are things at work?"

And that successfully veered the conversation into safe territory. Veronica was working an interesting case and was more than happy to share, and Michael had a thought or two to offer himself, and the discussion kept them going past the meal and well into the afternoon, when Michael finally had to excuse himself, with no small measure of regret. Walking and chatting with Veronica in a park had filled him with heaping amounts of nostalgia.

"Want me to drive you home?" Veronica offered.

"Nah, I'll walk," he said. "Thanks though."

After a brief but heartfelt goodbye, which resulted in him having to close his eyes to hide his tears from an oblivious Veronica, she got into her car, waved at him one last time and took off. He stood for a moment, watching her go, and then pulled out his phone to check the nearly half a dozen mails his earlier posting had resulted in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of apprehensive about this, which is why I decided to post it when I've only written so little. If you, the reader, think this is worth continuing, let me know, okay?


	3. Chapter 3

A week later, Michael stepped through the doors of his new rental apartment, looking around at the fully furnished décor. It was a far cry from his luxurious loft, but it was airy and comfortable, nonetheless. A temporary solution, until he could find his new residence, he had told the HR department while handing over the address. They had been a little surprised at the suburban location, it being rather far from his office, but hadn’t asked any questions as they expected him to soon relocate to another loft. Michael, on the other hand, expected his new location to be a prison cell in Fox River.

With that in mind, this was more than satisfactory. He could adapt to horrible living or eating arrangements… he’d survived Sona… but he had expensive tastes, as he had heard many times, and he felt rather bad about having to let the loft go.

A small price to pay, though, for someone’s life.

Michael set up his computer in the bedroom. He would have to get rid of the hard drive… much more efficiently, this time. He would also have to memorize their route in the prison. He couldn’t risk losing it again.

There was so much to do, still. And as with a lot of his plans, not all of them involved sitting behind a desk.

He headed for the playground.

* * *

“Mommy? I can’t find Buzz.”

Michael watched the proceedings out of the corner of his eye. The woman sitting a few feet away on the bench had a patient smile as she regarded her daughter. “Are you sure you got him out of the bag, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I did. He was partnering with Woody!”

“Well, let’s go look for him, then.”

“Not Buzz Lightyear?”

Both of them turned to Michael, the girl blinking, the woman smiling. “Hi! New here?”

“Yeah, actually. And as it happens…” he held out the action figure. “I found this in the grass near the road. Is this your daughter’s?”

“Buzz!” the girl exclaimed, snatching the toy from his hand in her excitement.

“Honey, say thank you!” the woman scolded, but the child was already gone. “I’m sorry, Mr…?”

Suppressing a triumphant expression, Michael held out his hand for the woman to shake. “Michael Scofield. I just moved in a couple blocks away.”

She smiled. “You’re from the city, aren’t you? Most of us don’t try to explain the distance with ‘blocks’ here.”

“That obvious, huh?” Michael smiled back, unassumingly. “It’ll probably take me a few weeks to blend in.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m Kacee Franklin.”

 _I know you are._ “Pleased to meet you.”

* * *

On his way back from his wedding, Michael dropped off his new wife at her apartment with a kiss on the cheek and headed for a very specific building. He stood outside, leaning against the wall, still as a statue for thirty-five minutes, before he finally saw _her_.

She hadn’t seen him, not at first. But his shaky exhale gave him away almost immediately, and she looked up and froze. He didn’t even want to imagine what the look in his eyes was telling her, so he schooled his expression, glad for his hood and the scarf that covered most of his face. “Hi.”

“Hello,” she said hesitantly, wary. “Can I help you?”

“Uh, no. I was just waiting for someone.”

“Oh? Do they live here?”

“Used to.” He swallowed. “Apparently they don’t anymore. And I don’t really know how to find them, so…”

Her eyes cleared, suspicion replaced by compassion. “I’m sorry,” she offered.

“No, it’s okay. I should go.” He stepped away from the wall, and made to walk away, but paused for a last glance back. She was still looking at him, loose strands of hair falling into her eyes and brushing her jacket. He wondered how he looked to her, dressed in street clothes. Right here, this, was how he had imagined them meeting in another life. Outwardly, everything was the same. Inside, his heart was breaking.

He couldn’t drag her into this again. He wouldn’t ask that of her. If he ever became that person… the man who could walk with her, hand in hand, on the beach, with no skeletons haunting either of them… _then,_ perhaps…

“Take care,” he whispered, barely audible, making no move to disguise the emotion in his eyes. He couldn’t bear to deny himself this last luxury.

She stared at him, looking… _haunted,_ for lack of a better word. As Michael steeled himself and turned away, gripping the car door, she exclaimed, “Wait. Wait a second. Do I know you?”

He didn’t reply… he couldn’t. As his car pulled away, he could see her frozen silhouette in his rear-view mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, I know. I just couldn't find anything else I'd want to add here. Next chapter should finally get things rolling!


End file.
